Sjung CRAL's Sång
by jankmaster98
Summary: Coming to Beacon none of them really knew what to expect, but fate seems to have brought them together. A team comprised of a pious soldier from a faraway land, a cowboy with more guts than sense, a nomad hunting for her future, and a seer trying to find his own answers. Together they're Team CRAL and just maybe they'll make something of themselves alongside RWBY and JNPR.
1. The Carolean

The chapel was cold and damp, but when wasn't this little hovel of a building like that? This wasn't the great church in the center of the city, this was the Soldier's Chapel, the place the weary enlisted man laid bare his soul. She didn't look too different from one of them, dressed in her plain blue uniform as she was. Approaching the small altar alone, the girl of 17 years knelt upon the floor. She knew the words she was to say well, but she hesitated for a moment. It used to be so simple to do this, there used to be no hesitation in her voice. Why now did she break with that? Maybe it was because she knew that this would be the last time in a long time that she would come to this place to pray. Or it could not be, for the choice was still her's, it had always been hers. Eventually, she found her will again, and the words came back to her lips.

" _Father above the skies_

 _Your name we honor with our deeds_

 _Your Kingdom we fight for_

 _Your will we die for_

 _On the Earth, the Sea, and the Sky_

 _Give unto us good harvests and clear skies_

 _And Pardon the transgressions we make_

 _As we must also forgive transgressors_

 _Lead us not towards dark deeds and dark ways_

 _But bring us salvation against the dark_

 _For yours is the eternal Kingdom, the everlasting power, and the unending glory_

 _Amen"_

She could've said more, could've offered more than the most simple of the Father's Prayers, but it didn't feel like saying ore would bring her answers, she needed quiet and some thinking space. For a moment the youthful warrior contemplated the importance of this little place, this Soldier's Chapel of a type so common throughout the land. Against the darkness that was the Grimm, the light of faith could keep a people strong. That was the idea at least, the idea that was imbedded into the mind, heart, and soul of everyone she knew, soldier and civilian. That was the idea that she was supposed to embody, in theory anyway. Fearless faith and courage in the face of danger, a unity of such would keep the negative emotions of the Grimm, keeping the people safe.

Safe was in short supply in the Kingdom of Carolean, standing alone and mostly ignored by the rest of the world. Oh sure they had a CCTS receiver, just so Atlas could say they recognized them, but most people apparently thought the continent of Fafnir home to nothing of importance. Well, to the people trying to eek out a living here, it was certainly of importance. Folks used to say that it was those too crazy to try settling the Northern Continent of Solitas that tried to settle the continent of Fafnir. Well, they were probably right come to think of it. The weather wasn't Solitas cold, but it was cold enough to make farming difficult, and just warm enough for the Grimm to be relatively unbothered.

However, it seemed like the people didn't know when and how to quit trying to build a life out here for themselves. The Grimm attacks bred more resolve rather than more panic, and as the Grimm pushed the people that would become the Caroleans pushed back. Hard times bred a hard people, and when the hours seemed darkest, the people turned to their belief in the Father to keep them strong during the cold nights.

Where was the Father's guidance now though? Where was the guidance and the sign that was supposed to show her what to do? The young woman continued to stare at the altar, where three candles representing the Father and his two Sons burned brightly. Today was the day, today was the day she would have to choose whether to stay with the familiar, or venture towards the unknown in search of new horizons. For the longest time she thought there was no choice, she would go across the sea to the Kingdom of Vale. It would be an adventure, a new experience, a chance to learn from some of the best Huntsman and Huntresses and become one herself. With the day at least here though, the choice was not so clear, not anymore.

Crystal Graka would have to make a choice soon though, the boat would be leaving soon. Dangerous waters meant that only a select few ships ever wanted to make the journey to Vale. If she missed this boat who knew how long it would be before she would be able to take another one. That was not even bringing up the fact that Beacon Academy's year was starting soon, if she lost out now it would be another year gone by. She had been accepted, her papers were in order and the Headmaster even sent a note it was a privilege to have someone from such a faraway place as Carolean to attend Beacon.

Crystal Graka looked to the weapon she had placed at her side, the Lion's Fang. The heavily modified musket design was considered antiquated by most, but the Caroleans had made due with this weapon. Her's was a more advanced design, a muzzle modified for shooting various Dust rounds. That wasn't even counting all the tinkering she'd done to the bayonet. Normally the size of a long knife, Crystal's now was almost the size of a shortsword. All the better to run Grimm through. The Carolean picked up her weapon, the familiar weight of it comforting somehow. When she held her weapon it wasn't about choices, there was only one choice. Gå–På! Go on. For a Carolean soldier, there was no retreat, you moved forward with your brothers and sisters in arms or you all died together. Common faith, common goal, common victory. Gå–På... Gå–På...

"It would be nice to have some sort of sign, Father." Crystal uttered to the empty chapel, hands still clenched in prayer.

Through the open windows, the wind blew in from the west snuffing out the candles upon the altar. The chapel grew colder somehow, and the already weak light of the sun seemed to darken outside. Crystal didn't know if she believed in omens, but it seemed almost as if she had gotten one right here. The wind had blown in from the west, a good wind for sailing to Vale. Humph Gå–På. Those words were supposed to guide her thoughts in battle, and what was this if not a battle in her mind to decide her future. Or something like that, maybe she had been spending too much time thinking and not enough time doing. Going to Beacon would be to look forward, staying would only mean staying back, not advancing as a Carolean was supposed to do. Picking up her weapon and resting it on her shoulder, Crystal left the chapel, but not before relighting the candles for the next potential parishioner. She had a ship to catch. Stepping out back into the streets of the city, Crystal was greeted by a familiar face and smile. A man of 43 years and old eyes was he, his blue uniform roughed up in many places, but there was no one under her command she trusted more.

"Befälhavare," He addressed her always by her rank, familiar as he was he never dropped that.

"Enough of that Himmel," Crystal tried to counter by using his first name rather than his rank or even his last name, "We're going to the docks."

"So you finally did make a decision while you were in there?"

"I have," The streets of Havsvakt were alive with the sounds of people going about their lives, and few paid attention to what appeared to be just two soldiers heading for the docks. "I am going to Vale, I will attend Beacon Academy."

The look on Himmel's eyes suggested he wasn't surprised by her decision. The old soldier shrugged as he stepped around a puddle leftover from last night's rain.

"I figured you for it, didn't think that my Befälhavare would shirk from challenge."

"It's not that, Himmel, not entirely at least," She wasn't sure if she was trying to tell herself that or Himmel.

"Aye, what happened was a tragedy no doubt can make a person rethink a lot of things. Still, I think he would've wanted you to make this journey even if he was no longer here."

"You're right, as usual Himmel, how is it you never made it past the rank of Huvudchef? Surely you could've made it into the Officer Corps?"

"I choose to avoid the paperwork of a commission. The extra pay would not have been worth the sleepless nights." Himmel laughed as they reached the docks where two figures in particular were waiting for them.

A woman of surpassing grace and elegance stood next to a man standing larger than life on the docks her brown hair and fair features reflected in her child. Gustavus and Christina Graka were flanked by a small procession of the Old Guard, their uniforms distinct from the others by the golden trim that adorned their arms and legs. Gustavus Graka gazed upon his daughter with a discerning air about him, grey eyes that matched her own held firm for but a moment before they softened. A laugh then escaped his lips easier as he moved to stand directly in the path of his scion.

"I knew that this would be your choice, my daughter," The bearded man had a deep and booming voice to accompany his large physical stature, "Even if you yourself did not."

"Perhaps you are right," Many was a time that Crystal wished she was taller so that she need not crane her head upwards to look into her father's eyes, "You made all the arrangements then."

A statement more than question, one which her mother answered with a nod.

"Did your father father not say already that he knew?" Her mother's voice was chastising in a way, but not overly so, "The preparations are all in hand, you need now only make your way to Vale."

Crystal gazed upon the ship and saw her few bags waiting for her on the docks. Indeed, it had seemed things were prepared well in advance for her. A Carolean going to study in Vale, when was the last time that happened? Before she could say more or do more however, her father took from his own bag a book that made Crystal's eyes widen. Simple red leather bound a book very similar to one that Crystal herself had in her own pack. Gingerly she took it in her hands and then gazed back at her father. Small tears began to well in her eyes as she recognized the signature on the front of the book, they were held by a soldier's discipline if barely.

"Your brother's prayer book was his journal as well as his guide," Her father explained with a look of quiet sadness he dared not vocalize loudly. "Take it with you, my daughter. In this way, he might go with you across the sea."

Placing the book carefully into her pack, Crystal thought to say something but failed. Instead, the practiced austerity of a Carolean soldier broke as she rushed forward to embrace her father. At first he was unprepared for such a display, but quickly he composed himself and wrapped his arms around the young girl who would be going off to a distant land. His wife moved close to this gathering as well, her face protecting an image of calm though internally she too wished to drop the facade. Still these things were expected of her, of her husband, and of her daughter.

After all, were they not the royal family of Carolean? Was Gustavus not Carolus and his daughter now Christus with the passing of her brother? They of course were those things, but they were a family like any other, and there were times family had to let feelings out.

"Daughter, Soldier, Christus, Carolean," Gustavus brought his gaze back to his daughter's eyes directly, "You are all these things Crystal, remember each part of yourself when you are in Vale. Keep the Father of Heaven close to your heart at all times, and do us and your Kingdom proud."

Crystal clutched her musket tightly as returned her father's gaze, mind steeled once again, falling back on training years in the making.

"I am a Carolean, father," The thin smile upon a young face showed a maturity unlike most of her age group, "My words, first and last, are Gå–På. I will make you proud. And I will honor our name."

"Go then, Carolean." This was not the wishes of the father that spoke now, but the order of a proud king towards one of his loyal soldiers, "Do great deeds, and come home greater than you once were."

"The Carolus commands, and I obey," Crystal bowed and the gave her parents and then Himmel one last look before grabbing her bags.

Marching as if in lockstep, Crystal walked up the gangplank and onto the ship. It's captain was a man rather young looking for a commander of his own vessel, but who was she to judge? It was likely he had earned his rank, while she had been born into her's. As soon as Crystal was aboard the captain gave orders to cast away and the crew got to work preparing for launch. Crystal turned once again back to the docks to see her parents standing with the Old Guard, and Himmel having removed his hat and saluting to her. She smiled and waved, glad that her departure had not been a scene of pomp or commotion. Ceremony had never been comfortable for her, though a royal upbringing meant that such things were inevitable many times; that didn't mean she had to like it. Before she went down to her cabin she turned to face the captain still standing on the bow.

"How long until we reach Vale?" She asked, trying to remember if she already had been told the answer at some point but came up with nothing.

"Depending on the winds, a week, maybe? Less than that if we're bless with better tides and winds." His head turned to the flagpole where the flag of the Kingdom of Carolean, a Blue Cross on a yellow field, whipped high in the winds. "It seems we're in luck mi'lady, we've got a good western wing backing us up. If it keeps 4 days it will take us to reach Vale."

"Good to hear Captain, I leave the task of sailing to you then." Four days, that would be good time to read up on Vale and the customs of that land.

She had a great deal of information on her scroll, but it was always nice to have the feel of paper in her hands and take in the knowledge written before her. It probably also wasn't guaranteed that her scroll would get signal out on the open waters such as they were. All in good time though. By now the ship properly casted off, and soon enough the shores and the people on them grew smaller and smaller in the distance until only the tallest of buildings were visible to the unaided eye. Home was behind a new world ahead, there would undoubtedly be new paths to tread in a land she had no real experience with before this point. Beacon Academy, Vale, these things were brand new and exciting to the Carolean. The skills of a Huntress were to be learned upon the distant shore, a new legend to forge and a new saga to write. Yes, or hopefully, maybe, well that was the idea at least. Who knew what would actually happen when she got there. For now though there was only the waiting for arrival, waiting, reading, and prayer. Four days... Maybe she should've brought more comic books.

 **A/N:** My first foray into RWBY Fanfiction, this story follows mostly my team of OCs as they try and make their way in the chaos that is Beacon during the timeframe of Vol 1 and 2. That's not to say I'm not gonna write a decent chunk of stuff for the Canon Characters either, but we'll have to see how things go.

If it isn't too obvious, Crystal and her people are based off the Swedish Empire and its soldiers circa mid 1600s and early 1700s. Bringing a mostly forgotten soldier like the Swedish Carolean into a story has always been something I've wanted to do. The Next few chapters are going to be made sort of like the canon character trailers before jumping to them all arriving at Beacon. I'm in the market for a Beta Reader as it were, as well. If anyone is interested make a note of it in a review or over PM. Well, hopefully people are interested by this, and I'll try and get up the next chapter soon.


	2. The Cowboy

He waited, because that was what you did when you were expecting company. He waited because he knew there wasn't really much else to do. Animals were all locked away, grain all stored and housed, and any possessions worth a damn boarded up in the basement. Not that they had much worth stealing. You didn't own much when you lived down on the western end of Vale near the Vacuo border. You did your best to eek out a living and did your best to keep the Grimm away from what was yours. Today though, it wasn't the Grimm that Russet "Rusty" Lowell was waiting for. Kestrel's men would be here soon coming in on horseback most likely, without good roads in the area the faithful horse would have to do for most people's transport. That meant that he still had a good deal of time though before they got to the homestead. Time he could spend trying to find a place to hide and cut his losses. There was no way he could defend against what was to come. A smart man would've gotten on his horse with what he could carry and leave this little homestead behind him. It wasn't as if it was any sort of grand establishment anyway, a one story building with 2 bedrooms and a common room was all it was. Which was to say nothing of whether the land was actually good for grazing or tending crops, honestly the material value of this place was in a great deal of question. Still, it was the house he was born in, the house he was raised in, and quite possibly this would be the house he would die in.

To try and take his mind off things as morbid as likely impending death, Rusty did another weapons check; idly inspecting his guns Colt and Remy for any irregularities. While they both seemed to be in good working order the last time he did his weapon's check, it wouldn't be a bad idea to do it again. After all it was only 20 minutes ago he'd done the last one, something could've happened in those 20 minutes he spent doing nothing but waiting! Colt seemed to be much the same as it was during the entire last 20 minutes, the revolver loaded with all six rounds ready to fire. As a scattergun Remmy's firing chambers were a bit more difficult to inspect, but he inspected them all the same. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that said that his guns would fail him in a fight. Colt would take targets long and mid, Remmy mid and short, that was how he did things. Course the hope was that he wouldn't need to use his guns, but slim chance of that happening. Rusty knew from the moment he didn't send the lien on time that this was only gonna end one way. This was gonna end with blood. His blood likely, maybe the blood of a few of Kestrel's goons. Rusty had never killed before but he was familiar enough with death already. Frontier life could harden you to that sort of thing, if it wasn't the Grimm that got you it could be the vultures that dressed like men.

It wasn't that Rusty was trying to fleece Kestrel, but the harvest simply wasn't what it could've been. Add to that the fact that he was trying to do the farmwork himself, with no extra hired hands, it was a task he just wasn't up to. He just wasn't able to make up the money in time with a green thumb, and the only other way was something he promised he wouldn't do. It would be so easy to break that promise, after all, what good are vows to the dead? But when the dead was your father, and when you tried to hold yourself to anything like a moral code, you honored the words you gave. Rusty had no doubt if he wanted to he could be a gunslinger, making more money on bets from a single duel than he could in a month working the land. He was young, he had Aura, and his semblance would pretty much guarantee him a victory. It wasn't what his father wanted for him though. Murdock Lowell taught his son to fight and unlocked his Aura to defend himself, not to risk his life for quick cash on a quick draw. Ironic now that his life was in danger and it was those skills he would have to probably fall back on if he was going to survive.

The sound of hoofbeats in the distance alerted Rusty to the fact that he had company here at last. Well, nothing for it now. Rusty opened the door to see a collection of eight men all on horseback, they all were armed with various firearms and Rusty knew that if even one of them had unlocked Aura he wouldn't be making it out of this firefight victorious. They kept themselves a respectable distance from Rusty and his house, close enough to talk clearly, but not so close Rusty was comfortable trying to dual wield his guns. He recognized the leader of this little band of merry men, one Everett Mace who sneered at Rusty with a condescending gaze. The lanky ruddy-faced man wasn't a good shot by any means, probably part of the reason why he brought 7 men to fight a damn 17 year old, though he did have Aura so that evened out the odds somewhat. Rusty couldn't really determine if any or all of them had Aura, but he knew that the last time they met Everett didn't. Something about not wanting to paint a target on his back or something like that, as if his cheap white suit didn't make him stick out any more like a sore thumb. Neither Rusty or his father liked Everett, and Rusty had a sinking suspicion that he might have been involved in the night of his father's death. Either way, the young gunslinger tried to put on a calm and brave face as he stared down the guns of the gathered men.

"Afternoon gentlemen," He began with his hands resting lazily by his side, not reaching near his guns, "Can I help ya'll with something today?"

"You can dispense with the formalities kid," Everett cut right to the point today, unusual for him, "The money due to Kestrel didn't come in last week. We just wanted to come by and make sure you weren't holding out on us."

"Awfully well armed for a check up don't you think?" Rusty let a sense of dry witt come through, even though he should've known better. "I sent Kestrel everything I could, every last lien I could scrape together. Even sold some of the cows to try and make up what I owed."

"You could barely make up a half of a down payment boyo. There's gotta be more in that house of yours. You couldn't possibly have spent all of "Deadeye" Murdock's winnings." They probably knew that he didn't have anything of value, this wasn't about lien anymore, it was about respect.

"Spent most of that on getting a proper funeral together." Rusty acknowledged a hint of bitterness in his voice, "If everyone from the coffin maker to the undertaker didn't charge me up the nose I might've had more to show ya."

Despite the fact that his father had helped keep the town safe from Grimm on his off days, it seemed like nobody back in town wanted to help lay Murdock Lowell to rest properly. Was it that they were afraid to be associating with the Lowells after Murdock's death? Fear was a dangerous thing out here, fear could and would bring the Grimm, even if it was fear of something human or faunus. Rusty quietly wondered if maybe it would've been better just to dig his old man a grave all by himself and just lay the body in there. Would've only taken him a day, and it would've saved him a good deal of lien. Maybe the right thing and the smart thing didn't always line up. It was too late to really ponder that decision now though. He didn't have the money, and to just let these guys take the farm would leave him good as nothing anyway.

"If you can't pay up kid, then we're gonna have to just take what we can carry. Maybe even need this whole dump to." Everett and the others began to look more and more unfriendly and Rusty could feel the chance for this to end peacefully begin to slip away.

"Look, if ya'll could just give me a few more weeks to get another harvest in I could-"

"Another few weeks and your dues would be even more than what you owe now kid." Rusty grimaced as he was interrupted and not even referred to by his damn name. "Why don't you step out of the way so me and boys can inspect our new dwellings?"

The fact that nobody dismounted was a clear sign that every word up to this point was just for show. Just for the sake of pretending to have some level mercy or generosity. Well that wasn't gonna fly here. That wasn't going to get them anything with him.

"I ain't bout to do that." Rusty knew what would happen next, all in a few fractions of a second everything would be decided. "You don't get into my house without my say so."

The moment those words left Rusty's lips, Everett gave a small signal to his men. It was supposed to be a quick thing that would take only a second to be understood. Too bad for them a second would be more than what Rusty needed to draw Colt from its holster. Nine men drew weapons in the time between the ticks of a clock. By the time of the next tick, two of them were dead. A duo of thuds sounded as two bodies fell, apparently they didn't have anything protecting them other than cloth and the hope that Rusty wouldn't aim for them first. Maybe they were brought along as cannon fodder, Rusty wouldn't put it past Everett to waste men's lives like that. The third man he shot at though, he managed to keep level as four bullets bounced away from his Aura field. Well, shit. Rusty had just unloaded all of Colt's rounds and though he had probably heavily damaged or perhaps even broke this Aura, there were still more unknowns in the hostile party. Rusty needed to get into cover and reload, as he wasn't comfortable with his chances of hitting anything with Remmy at this distance.

Well, hitting anything without using his Semblance that was. It wouldn't have been one of his better ideas though, considering that using it would require him to stand stalk still in the middle of a firefight. Not a good idea even if you have Aura protecting you, his father having taught him that Aura or no Aura, cover was better than no cover. Six guns began to spit lead at Rusty as he tried to dive back into the house for a modicum of protection. He could feel some of the bullets hit their mark, and if the young man wanted to stay alive he was going to have to work fast. The sound of shattering glass and the feel of his knees hitting wood helpfully informed Rusty that he was now inside his house. Great job, now they were going to be shooting whatever he did have left if he made it out of this alive. Brilliant plan, just the best.

Realizing that the wood that held the house together might not be strong enough to completely stop bullets, Rusty overturned the main dining time and pushed it up against the wall near the main front window. Reloading Colt with another set of rounds as bullets whizzed through the window, Rusty popped up out of cover to let loose on his advancing foes. They had all dismounted at this point, favoring their steady legs too the rearing of horses. There wasn't really any cover between them and the farmhouse, so they apparently thought that running and gunning it was the best plan of action. Well, all except Everett, the coward stood back apparently "guarding" the horses and making sure they didn't run off. A shot from Colt dropped one more hired gun just as he was getting ready to shoot, evidently another man without the knowledge they were going up against someone more than just a kid who failed to pay his debts. However, as it turned out, a shootout wasn't exactly what these guys really were thinking about at this point. The goon with Aura and a really scraggly beard loaded some sort of dust round into his gun. Rusty tried to take a shot at him before he could use whatever it was he was loading but suppressing fire from the others kept him pinned. As it would turn out, perhaps it would've been better to brave getting his Aura shot away than suffer what was about to happen next as the man fired his round into the side of the house.

You see, when one makes a house made of wood, fire apparently becomes a big concern. Such a concern that when one smells something burning you realize that maybe something's wrong. Something wrong like someone shooting a high power incendiary dust round into the house. First came the smell of burning wood, then came the smell of smoke invading the air. In the corner of his eye Rusty cold see the fire begin to spread quickly from where the shot connected. On it's own the fire wasn't too concerning as long as one had a semi-magical force field protecting them. The problem was two fold, one that the fire would spread throughout the house possibly bringing it down on top of him, and two the smoke from the fire was something that his Aura wouldn't stop from invading his lungs. Death from smoke inhalation was not the way he wanted to die, and if he tried to break out of his house he would likely be a sitting duck. If he stayed put he was in danger, if he moved out he was in danger. There was one remaining avenue of retreat though, the basement, the area of the house he'd never tried to go into even after his father died. It's entrance was strangely in the master bedroom, held shut by a lock that Rusty had never found the key to even as he searched the entire building. The smell of burning wood invaded his nostrils more and more, and Rusty realized that he had to move, now! This incendiary Dust burned hotter than a normal fire and thus began to eat up more and more of the house at a rapid pace.

Stumbling into the master bedroom, Rusty tried vainly to search the drawers for the key. All his scrambling really did though was give the fire more time to spread. Looking disdainfully at the lock on the basement, Rusty reached a snap decision. If he couldn't find the key to the damn lock, he'd make his own key. Leveling Remmy at the thing, Rusty covered his face before shooting the lock clean off with his scattergun. The force of the shot bounced metal and shrapnel in every direction, but Rusty still had enough Aura to render that less than fatal. Quickly grabbing the handles with his gloved hands, Rusty felt the intensity of the heat around him seep into this room as he heard some timbers collapsing behind him. Without a second thought he threw himself down the stairs, sealing the doors behind him and letting the smoke rise out and away from the basement. Coughing away the smoke that did get into his lungs, Rusty realized first of all that he was now trapped in almost total darkness. The sound of falling timbers and burning wood still could be heard above him and placing his gloved hand on the metal doors confirmed somewhat painfully that the inferno had probably consumed the master bedroom at this point.

Frigging great, just great. Now he really did have damn near nothing left. Well, there was the barn and the animals there, maybe. They might have already burned that down. They most certainly would have taken the horse, it was probably the only animal really worth stealing from the farm. Now he was trapped in the basement, in the dark, while a fire burned all around him. Sitting on the steps that led down to the basement floor, the cowboy clutched his face in his hands in frustration. What the hell had he done? He'd just gotten his father's life's work torn to cinders and ashes above him. He'd killed men, he fought and stood his ground, and it didn't make any difference. Rusty wondered what could he have done different, in the firefight and the lead up to it. Maybe if he... Well what if he... If he just knew that... In general his thoughts were short clipped and angry. Rising to his feet he felt the heat from above seep in through the doors and he yelled in rage.

"GOD DAMN IT!" And with that roar he punched the wall in total darkness, which would turn out be an extremely lucky hit considering what happened next.

A set of small lights began to light up around the small basement room. Surrounding Rusty was a plethora of weapons, books, and all the other trappings of some sort of armory. Workbenches, toolkits, and other tools of the craftsmen looking to sustain his art were down here. When the hell did this all get out here? Rusty knew his father used to be a Huntsman or something, but for a set up like this to be under the house the entire time? Thin layers of dust covered most the equipment, the byproduct of having been left alone all this time. A lot of this stuff still looked like they were good to go if he only knew how to use it. Rusty's father had taught him how to take care of Colt and Remy, but doing stuff like making his own ammunition, no way. Heck it looked like here was all the tools you needed to make your own guns, along with some other interesting things.

Sitting on one of the tables was a stack of what looked like different types of grenades with various labels on them. "Stun", "Smoke," and "Concussive" were the main three it appeared as they were sorted and distinguishable by shape and size. Rusty could see that they appeared to be Dust based, the weapons of a Huntsman no doubt, designed to aid a fight against Grimm or hardy criminals. Gingerly Rusty picked up one of the stun grenades and balanced the cylindrical object in his hands. He had no idea how powerful this thing was, though he could feel the Dust shaking around in the canister. Interestingly enough, it appeared that this grenade and the others had clips that perfectly latched onto his belt. Could it be he was meant to have these at some point? It was impossible to ask at this point, but his father wasn't going to be using these anymore.

Deciding to leave these alone for a while, Rusty's eyes were then drawn to another table, upon which lay a single photograph in a bright blue frame. His footsteps echoed in the dimly lit basement as Rusty moved to examine the picture. It was a large group picture with a whole host of various individuals scattered throughout. It looked like this was some sort of graduation picture, students celebrating their lives taking a new turning point after years of work and study. Rusty's attention was then drawn to two people in particular who were situated in the foreground of the shot. One man he easily recognized as a younger version of his father, his eyes and crooked grin a dead giveaway to Rusty. The second was a woman with auburn hair wearing something very familiar to Rusty. Upon the woman's head was a stetson, the exact same as his own. Oh it could possibly be chalked up to the shame model and make, but the color, the marks, the shape it was all there. Added to the fact that his father was in the picture, a general conclusion began to form in Rusty's mind. That woman in the picture, she either knew or maybe even was his mother.

Murdock Lowell never said much about Aurora Lowell, the woman he married apparently having left for reasons Rusty was not privy to. He always said she was supposed to come back one day, but Rusty had long since given up on the idea she would ever return. Only thing she had ever given him was the hat he wore without fail, rain or shine. Might as well have something useful out of not having her around. He was always told as a child that there were "reasons" that his ma couldn't be with them. She wasn't dead, he was always assured that, but for some reason Rusty sometimes wondered if it would've been better that way. At least in that case, there would be finality involved, rather than a questioning of she was doing or what really was happening with her. Rusty looked on the back of the picture frame, in old marker the label "Beacon Graduation Class of -" the date apparently having been worn off by virtue of time. Beacon, huh? The big academy up in the northern end of the Kingdom where everybody supposedly lived the big city life. His father never said anything about him or his mother having gone there for their training. Oh sure Rusty knew his father was a great fighter, the best, but being Beacon trained? This was something he had no idea about.

Rusty then put the picture frame down to examine the other object on the table. A single piece of paper looked like. A letter of some sort? Rusty picked it up and held it close to one of the wall lights to get good look at the contents of the thing.

 _Dear Headmaster Ozpin,_

Where had Rusty heard that name before?

 _It's been a long time since I've sat down to try get word out to you, times been treating you alright old man? The kids you teaching up in Beacon taken all your black hair yet? I wish I trusted the scroll service out here enough to hit you up with an actual call, but stuff like this does have something of a more personal touch I supposed. Like I said last time, I've got the situation down here handled. There's no need to send anybody else down here to keep an eye on things. More Huntsmen coming into the area could give people ideas. Best to keep things down here quiet and calm._

 _My boy's growing up to be a fine gunslinger, maybe he'll be as good as his old man one day. I'd send him over to you to get him some real training, but I do need his help around the farm to keep things running. I keep telling myself I'll give him the truth about things one day, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I know you'd want to try and keep most everything about it a secret for as long as possible, but you've never raised your own kid trying to keep these kinds of things from him. I'll have to give him the whole truth one day, just so I can sleep at night._

 _Enough of that though, I promised you a report? It's all quiet along the western front. Nobody has a lick of an idea where to start looking, I'll keep my eyes peeled and send this letter when I can. Keep the old fires burning old friend, and I'll keep the Vigil alive._

 _Your Friend,_

 _Murdock Lowell_

Ozpin... The Headmaster of that Beacon Academy up North, of course. This letter made it sound like his father had known the man on a personal basis, corresponding with him on something that he didn't want Rusty to know about. How quickly things changed... Murdock Lowell six feet under, his son potentially to follow if he didn't find a way out of this basement. Rusty pocketed the letter, dwelling on the implications that would serve him nothing if he didn't get out of this basement alive. It looked like there was some survival supplies in here, but that would mean nothing if he couldn't make his own way back up to the surface. Rusty walked back to the steps leading up to the entrance, listening for if the fires still burned above him. It sounded a bit like they had died down a bit, maybe he'd been moping around down here for long enough for the flames to eat through most of the house. He then placed a hand up to the metal doors of the basement. They were warm, but no the blazing hot they would've been if there was still a fire above him. Rusty tried to push the doors open but found that they wouldn't budge much. Probably due to some timbers falling on top of the the place.

Again, Rusty pushed against the doors. If he couldn't break out of the basement, it was just gonna be his tomb. Again the doors refused to budge so much as an inch. The cowboy pushed his aura through his hands, the stress of the effort taxing him something mean. Damn it if he was gonna let this basement be his grave though. There wouldn't be a grave for him for a long time coming if he had his way. With a grunt Rusty channeled a good chunk of his Aura reserves into his arms and hands to press off against the doors. With one final burst of desperation and rage he finally flung the doors open, scattering two massive support beams that had fallen on top of the entrance.

The smell of ash was the first thing that greeted him as he came back to the surface, along with the sound of a few small fires still petering out. Embers began to float near Rusty's eyes as he got back up to ground floor, and began to survey all the damage. He was standing in a burnt out ruin, that was the general gist of the situation. Everything that once was his and his father, gone in a Dust filled inferno. Rusty dropped to his knees in frustration, fuming alongside the ashen wood that remained as he saw that the barns, the coups, everything, had been looted or burned. Everything was gone, everything his father tried to teach him to care for, it was all gone. Rusty guessed that Mace and his men assumed he died in the inferno, after all it didn't seem like they had stuck around to see the fruits of their labor. Nothing, absolutely nothing here anymore. Nothing to protect, nothing to work, nothing to make him believe he had a place here anymore. Oh sure the basement was still there, but everything that had made this place home was gone. What took years to build, took only seconds to destroy.

He tried to internalize his thoughts, keep them down. Dark thoughts only brought the Grimm around on the frontier. You had to push forward, keep your mind on better things by moving forward. His father tried to teach him that, his father who died for reasons Rusty still had no clue about. Brushing aside the tears that seemed to fall without conscious thought, Rusty checked his pocket again for that letter to Ozpin. He knew his father, was apparently close enough for them to have somewhat regular correspondence. If Rusty didn't have anything tying him here anymore, then he was going to look for answers. That's what he told himself. Push forward, don't look back, put your mind to something ahead of you rather than whatever pained a soul behind you. That's what he would do once he had the time. Rusty would go North to metropolitan Vale, find this Ozpin guy, and find out what he knew about his father, and maybe even his mother along the way.

"Stars above..." Rusty whispered to the breeze as ashes of his home floated into the sky, "Those bastards did all this, all this just for a fistful of lien..."

Rusty would drag himself out of the burnt out wreck soon, but for a few moments more he was gonna sit here and remember the life Murdock Lowell had tried to build. He couldn't stay long, Grimm would be coming soon no doubt, but he would take a decent bit of time before he left. He'd make the time, for his father, and for himself. He'd let tears fall now, because his eyes would have to be dry later. After all, he had a journey ahead of him now, didn't he? That would begin soon, but first Rusty would try and say goodbye to the home he knew; because chances were, he wouldn't be coming back.

 _A/N_ And with that I put Rusty's solo chapter, which went on much longer than I expected, to rest. I do believe it is mentioned that Frontier towns and settlers do occasionally try to make their lives outside the protections of the normal kingdom infrastructure, so I imagined that in the border regions between Vacuo and Vale, a sort of Wild West kinda vibe can be found far from the shining modernish cities. It may be that I made an Aura user such as Rusty a underpowered here, especially if he is supposed to be a Beacon student, however I think the scenario works since mostly it was about Rusty being forced back into the burning homestead. Anyway, the next chapter should be coming up soon enough. Still looking for a Beta if anyone's interested.

Please feel free to comment good or bad on the work, and hopefully you've been entertained just a little bit so far. Anyway, till next time, Jankmaster out!


	3. The Pathfinder

The woods here were such a different place from the plains she once knew. More than a few times the warrior whose name roughly translated to Advances into Distant Sunrise wished that she had more direction than just the idea that her destination was due North by Northwest. She chose this plan however, she chose leave the Southern Plains to venture through Grimm infested territory with no companionship all for the idea that she could become a greater warrior. Easily this was the best idea she had ever since that time she though Aura would make it sooooo easy to stop a charging herd of buffalo with her bare hands. Occasionally her left arm still felt just a little bit sore from that little idea. Regardless, she had a path to follow, a ways to go yet. The training grounds they called Beacon would not wait forever for one lonely soul to find her way there. From what the Chief told her, it was a training ground of many hundreds of young men and women looking to become great warriors. Huntsmen and Huntresses they called them, and according to Chief White Knives they were the great warriors of the Kingdoms. Those Kingdoms which according to White Knives, held a great deal of wonders and terrors alike compared to the life on the Sea of Grass. Such would be her experience now as she ventured further and further from the lands isolated away from most Valeian contact.

Isolated was probably a good way to describe the Wanbli and the other tribes of the Southern Plains. Another word that would come to mind for the was nomadic. Some less magnanimous, would probably call them barbarians. For generations, the people of the Southeastern Plains, called the Sea of Grass by those that lived there, lived a nomadic life chasing the buffalo and avoiding the creatures of Grimm. In those lands and times, they did what any other people might do. They would raise their children, tell their stories, fight their small wars. Among the Wanbli tribe in particular, the practice of combat, whether against Grimm or against other tribes, was a celebrated position. If one was a warrior of the tribe, one carried great respect among his or her peers. That respect could translate perhaps to your name being one of many sung in the great odes to the warriors of the past; legends written on on paper but in the souls and culture of the tribe.

For her part, Advances into Distant Sunrise was called to be a Pathfinder of the Wanbli, a warrior with unlocked Aura called to fight Grimm rather than partake in the conflicts with the other tribes. That was the rule that all the tribes respected in order to keep the peace. Ever since the ancient days it was agreed that those who chose the way of the Pathfinder not be turned against those with living souls. There were of course, times less than moral individuals tried to get around this rule, but in that case the Pathfinders of the other tribes would usually be given special permissions to hunt down the offending individual. It was not a perfect system, but it was a system that worked. Set aside from the other Warrior Societies of the Sea of Grass, the Pathfinders were perhaps the closest thing to Huntresses and Huntsmen that the Plains Tribes had. It was the quest to become greater in that capacity as a guardian that the young warrior ventured.

"A day's journey north, a day's journey north," She muttered to herself as she remembered the directions to the nearest trading settlement en route to her destination. "And I am going north..."

The Southern Plains themselves were nearly empty of Vale Settlers, and though the kingdom claimed these lands de jure, for the longest time the Tribes ruled the land in fact, with all attempts to conquer them stymied by Grimm, terrain, and the fierceness of the Tribal Warriors. Which was not to say that most of the tribes viewed the Valeians as eternal enemies, indeed tribes that roamed the western edge of the plains often found themselves trading with the Valeian frontier towns. The tribes traded buffalo hides and some of those that lived close enough to the forests traded and trapped furs. The Wanbli wandered mostly in the central portion of the Sea of Grass, a ways from both the drylands of the west, the north near the forests, and the sea to the south. This would be the farthest north anyone from the Wanbli tribe had wandered in a long time. Chief White Knives had gone even further in his youth, but ever since him not even the Pathfinders of the tribe had felt reason to go beyond the Sea of Grass. That was partly because most Pathfinders did not believe they had anything more to learn when it came to fighting the Grimm. Advances into Distant Sunrise however, thought differently than most of her brethren.

From a very young age, the girl who would become Advances into Distant Sunrise was possessed of a great curiosity for almost everything. In fact at her birth her mother had named her Leaping Badger, for her apparent desire to leap from her mother's arms and into the great and wider world. It had been many years since she had given up that name, replaced by her current one during the sacred ceremony that had signaled her emergence from childhood. However, she had never lost the desire to continue to learn more of the world around her and explore places that she had never seen before. First it had manifested in a fascination with all the tales of the Storytellers and Elders of the tribe, then it had evolved into her always volunteering to be the one venturing into the Valeian towns to trade, and finally it had culminated in her desire to hone her talents as a warrior to become a Pathfinder. For the Pathfinders were always given the greatest leeway in movement and independence from the tribes, and in this way she would have more opportunities to see new lands even if it was still within the boundaries of the Sea of Grass.

She had never expected the chance to explore outside the Sea of Grass, but that chance came when Chief White Knives apparently got word from the Red Cloud Tribe that Grimm were growing in numbers. The Red Clouds lived close to the northern end of the Sea of Grass, where the interior of the continent often held scores of Grimm too dangerous for the settlement of the land by human hands. Oh of course small towns popped up here and there, but for the most part the lands were too Grimm infested for any sort of concerted settlement effort. Chief Comes in Sight had said that his own Pathfinders were fighting more and more Grimm in and around the normal lands where the Red Cloud migrated. White Knives had long considered Comes in Sight a trusted friend, and in the past they had led war parties together against the Two Tusks and the Standing Bears. Though Comes in Sight had tried to make White Knives believe not much was happening, the Wanbli chief believed that this might be a sign of darker things to come. For generations the Grimm had been mostly kept in check by the Pathfinders when they tried to entire the Sea of Grass in force. It could be that now the mysterious creatures that killed humans seemingly for sport were moving in greater numbers and more dangerous directions.

For this reason, Chief White Knives had taken Advances into Distant Sunrise and asked her a simple question.

" _How far would you venture, what paths would you cross, to protect the Wanbli?"_

" _There would be no path I would not cross, no distance I would not trek, to protect my people." She responded with all her heart._

That simple question and that simple answer had led her here. The forests north of the Sea of Grass in the direction of the great mountain range that helped protect Interior Vale. The nearest town was supposedly just a little bit further if the recollection of Red Cloud trappers and traders were to be trusted. In all honesty she was not sure. She knew that the chances of even small trading outposts of the Valeians surviving for a decent period of time was slim. That was part of why even on the Sea of Grass the Plains Tribes kept kept moving, to follow the buffalo and to leave behind the Grimm.

" _I have been considering something for a long time, young warrior." Chief White Knives looked deep in thought as if his heart and soul were no longer in this tipi but cast adrift to someplace far away._

" _It involves the future of the people?" Advances into Distant Sunrise asked, wondering first if she had done something wrong to be called forward like this._

" _It involves your future more specifically," he clarified as his mind refocused on the task at hand, "You know little of the lands beyond the Sea of Grass, correct?"_

" _I know what stories you and Medicine Crow tell," She could not repress a smile as she recalled the wry humor of the Holy Man who some of the younger braves called Old Mean Medicine Crow, "There are four kingdoms beyond our lands, each far different from one another though more alike to each other than us."_

" _There are actually five kingdoms, but that point is disputed by many. You have heard then of their Pathfinders, their Huntsmen and Huntresses."_

 _At this she nodded, Old Mean medicine Crow had met some of those kind and told tales of the days he fought alongside them against Grimm from the North. Many of the braves and children dismissed these as tall tales, but Advances into Distant Sunrise had long ago learned that even the most outrageous of the old man's stories had truths to them. His role in the tribe was to preserve culture and history after all, it would make sense that he would have a colorful one of his own._

" _The Taku Nagi, the Grimm, they have been growing bolder and though I pray their advance is not a sign of things to come I feel that I must take steps. "_

 _She waited in silence for the Chief to continue, listening patiently for when it would come to her part in all this._

" _Far to the north, beyond the forest and the Great Mountains, the Kingdom of Vale has a school where they train their Pathfinders in the art of combat. Their lessons and their experience is far beyond what can be found here."_

 _Now she understood why the chief looked so pensive about this idea. The lands to the north were full of Grimm until one actually got to the Kingdoms. Some of the tribes knew relatively safe paths, but those were few and far between. For anyone to try and make a journey to the North and the Heartlands of the Kingdom of Vale would be quite the journey indeed._

" _You intend for me to venture in that direction." A statement rather than a question. "Learn the techniques of their warriors."_

" _You are of the age they would be sending their young men and women to be trained in their combat arts, and undoubtedly have the skills needed to stand with them. I do not make that statement lightly."_

 _Advances into Distant Sunrise knew that she was considered powerful among the young Pathfinders, but the idea that she would be considered hardy enough to brave the wild northlands was news to her._

" _If you choose to go, you will have to travel light and swift." Chief White Knives took something out of a bag and handed it to Advances into Distant Sunrise, "These cards are called lien, and are the currency four of the five kingdoms use."_

 _The young Pathfinder appraised the items warily, somewhat unsure how anyone could ascribe value to these flimsy small things. Then again, they probably were easily to carry around than buffalo hides. She looked to Chief White Knives and then back outside to the tribe doing their daily work. If she were to go, she would be leaving behind the entire world that she knew, her friends, her family, and the land itself._

" _If I go North, how long would I be gone?" She asked, even as she knew her decision was already made in her heart._

" _The period of instruction lasts four years, so I am told," White Knives explained, "And far as I know you may return anytime you wish."_

" _I will have to say some goodbyes to my family and the other warriors," She said this not with a frown however, rather much more like an eagerness she concealed out of propriety._

" _Take what time you need, but be swift in your business. Winter's snow will come sooner than one might expect." A solemn nod and a look of affirmation upon his face, Advances into Distant Sunrise knew that there was pride in the old chief of the Wanbli. She would make her preparations and then go where none of her tribe had ventured in years._

That was the idea anyway, much easier said than done. The first few days of travel were simple enough, as she had only to cross strenches of the Sea of Grass before making it to the northern woodlands. After that though, the pace of the journey began to slow as she attempted to make her way from outpost to outpost for supplies and directions. All of them trying to overcharge her for things like basic supplies and maps! She knew that most of the villages of the Vale Frontier were wary of the people of the Sea of Grass, but she had money didn't she? She really wished that she had a horse, but she was reminded that much of her journey would take her through terrain ill suited for one of the mustangs the tribe depended on. She would eventually have to cross the mountains that protected the Valeian interior, but the way her feet ached even with aura told her a horse would still have been a nice tough. Oh well, journeying to exciting new places was never going to be easy, interesting certainly, but not easy.

Then she felt it, something dark upon the wind. She couldn't tell exactly how she knew what it was, but she felt it without question. The way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up she knew, Grimm were in the area. She could not see them yet through the woods, but she knew they were approaching her. Chances were that they were beowolves, but larger creatures couldn't be ruled out. Advances into Distant Sunrise reached behind her for her weapons strapped to her back and prepared for the inevitable. Gripped in her palms were two coup sticks, sacred weapons of her people. The cane like weapons were made of solid wood and reinforced with her own Aura. Her Coup Sticks were decorated sparsely, such was the style of the Pathfinders compared to the Warrior Societies that waged the inter tribal warfare. Simple weapons were the coup sticks, but effective if one knew how to use them. Traditionally they would be used to count coup against enemy warriors, but in her hands they were powerful and effective tools for dispatching the Grimm.

She could see them now, five beowolves all within her imeditate field of vision. They trampled through the forest without thought to anything else other than killing. Deciding not to let herself be surrounded, Advances into Distant Sunrise charged headlong into danger. In a running dash she slammed the rounded edges of her coup sticks straight into the skull of one of the beowolves before it could truly enter into combat. The crunch of bone and flesh resounded through the woods as the wood instruments of destruction were charged with enough Aura to batter down walls. The unfortunate beowulf died quickly, and seeing one of their number taken down the others converged quickly on their ally's killer. White claws swiped at empty air as reflexes honed from years of training paid off. Quick slashing attacks were her game now, bashing her weapons into the fur of another of the monsters. Blunt force trauma caused the damage she needed to gain the advantage and in a rapid succession Advances into Distant Sunrise switched targets. Fury and strength bounded through her arms as the injured beowolf made room for two of its comrades to engage only to have them slammed into each other as the Pathfinder hooked one beowolf's arm into a coup stick and swung the offending creature into its brethren. With one more creature left standing, there was little left to do than offer one last coup de grace. Like with the first creature dispatched, Advances into Distant Sunrise shattered skull upon sticks with furious strength. A final roar of pain escaped the monster's maw before it faded into the air like the rest of its pack.

She was always a bit disappointed that the Grimm faded as such, leaving her no time to really savor the conquest of the fallen creatures. Then again, this had been an easy victory, not something worth writing home about. With a small sigh the tribal put her coup sticks away and made ready to continue onward, this little altercation had cost her daylight. Time would only tell how long it would actually take to reach Beacon Academy or even Vale itself, but she would make it there, she had to. Hopefully, the next village she encountered would have some sort of map, or at least one that didn't cost her half her savings.

A/N And here is Advances into Distant Sunrise's (or as she'll later be called Sunny's) chapter. Don't worry I have a lot of jokes planned for when she and Sun Wukong later meet. Sunny's character and people is based a lot in the Plains Indians of North America, with main ideas coming from elements of the Lakota, Cheyenne, and Crow tribes. Next chapter we meet the final member of team CRAL and after that it's off to Beacon itself and fun times there with the canon characters. Anyway, please review, fav, and follow. Thanks readers!


	4. The Seer

Keep your guard up, that was lesson number one. A lesson one young man tried his best to follow under the barrage of jabs coming from a fighter more skilled than he. Dust kicked up in wild flurries as footwork and acrobatics also played a role in who had the advantage in this fight. It certainly didn't help though that the fighter wielding the scimitars had let the fighter wielding the katars in close. Both of the young men were dressed in green scale armor with messy black hair upon their heads. It would be clear from any cursory glance at the two that these boys were relatives, cousins or brothers perhaps. Between the two of them the older of the pair had a much more built figure compared to the rather lanky stature that the other boy bore. The dark brown eyes of the younger of the pair seemed to be deep in concentration and thought, while his elder's light brown ones seemed to dance with easy cheer and spirit. The complexion of both young men was of a darkish variety, supplemented by a tan from the harsh Vacuo sun.

"Come on Latif, it took me even less time than usual to get this close. Keep up!" A playful jeer, with a slight admonishment. Nothing held with malice though. That wasn't in Karim Arcadia's nature.

Latif Arcadia was used to worse though from his other relatives, but at least from Karim he knew that he was getting roundabout encouragement and not just beratement. With a kick he tried to force his cousin back, but Karim kept his footing and instead slashed down at Latif's right arm. A bolt of pain shot through the young man's limb before a jab of pain erupted in his gut as another katar assaulted his Aura. A swift punch to the chest then sent Latif on the ground without so much as the breath in his lungs as his weapons clattered to the dirt floor. The projected screen on the wall noted that at least one of the combatants had their Aura levels in the red and thus called for the match to end. Latif sat up, looking at the various readings as they stood. Latif had apparently only barely gotten Karim's Aura into the yellow, it seemed he was more off than usual today. With a magnanimous smile Karim offered his hand to his younger cousin, still friendly even after his rather easy victory.

"I've told you once, I've told you twice, I've told you thrice!" Karim lifted Latif off the ground while both put their weapons back into place, "Know your distances and watch your footwork. A Grimm or an outlaw isn't going to wait until your Aura's in the red to stop you know."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll get lucky and if I play dead it'll move on or something," Latif tried to joke before Karim shoved him in the shoulder.

"You still haven't talked to him, have you?" For the first time today the easy smile Karim usually wore left his face, "You're supposed to be leaving soon aren't you?"

"Not seeing him is the whole point of my going," Latif countered without a lot of conviction in his voice, "If I stayed here in Vacuo and went to Shade I'd probably be back every weekend under his thumb."

"Controlling patriarch or not, you owe our grandfather your respect, cousin," And here was the crux of the issue, and the issue Latif had hoped to avoid. "You're going to be his legacy, more than I am at any rate."

Vacuo was well known as a kingdom without much in the way of laws or governance. The order that did come came from strength and the strongest place was Shade Academy, and one of the great cruxs of Shade Academy was the Arcadia Family. For generations, many headmasters and professors of Shade Academy had been members of the Arcadia family, and through their history and tradition of powerful warriors, they had built a reputation as the Iron Shields of Vacuo. In everything the Arcadias did, they approached it with a warrior's discipline, tenacity, and boldness. It had made the Arcadias rich and influential in a relatively lawless land. The Arcadias never bothered going after the rather useless council seats, why should they when their power came not from politics but from the strength of their arms and souls? For all this though, there was no hereditary semblance or anything like the Schnees, no natural inborn advantages they carried. It was all in the tradition and iron will they fostered, or so the Arcadias claimed. Latif was perhaps and example of a failure of that tradition.

The darkly tanned young man had neither the natural skill nor the ambition to necessarily follow in the tradition of his family to become a Huntsman. Instead Latif found himself most at home with great tomes of knowledge and history. It was a trait that some said he got from his father, who was a librarian before he married Latif's mother and took the Arcadia name. Latif himself would be trained by his relatives and various other teachers in the art of combat from a young age, but all said that he simply did not have the drive necessary to become the type of Huntsman desired of him. His cousin Karim was only perhaps the most recent of tutors to try and eek progress out of the young man. To his credit Karim had done a better job than most at drilling in the basics into Latif's head. For the most part Latif was competent enough with Sala and Din, his dual scimitars that turned into a bow when joined. However, competent enough was not sufficient by the standards of Bismarck Arcadia, the family patriarch. Latif was supposed to be, at the very least, equal to the family name. The Arcadia name was built upon power and cunning, upon valor and great deeds, thus far Latif had not shown the capacity to be anything more than average.

He was a far cry from the woman who had birthed him, for Laurel Arcadia was indeed the very image of what his family honored. A powerful reserve of Aura, a boundless wealth of bravery, and a skill in battle that could only be described as masterful. It was no great mystery why Bismarck Arcadia favored her out of all his children. It was also no secret that he considered her his heir, even above some of her older siblings to say nothing of her younger ones. The only flaw Latif's mother seemed to have in his grandfather's eyes was her choice in love. The man she took to her side was neither well connected nor a powerful warrior. A librarian from a dusty corner of Vacuo City was he. Unassuming in his stature and gentle in his voice, how he caught the eye and eventually the heart of the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Vacuo was something of a mystery to Vacuans kingdom round. Latif knew the truth though, and so did his grandfather no matter how much he resented it. Tadmor Arcadia had dared to speak to Laurel as an equal when they first met, and had dry wit to match his wealth of knowledge as they continued to speak. Most of all perhaps, Tadmor was possessed of a simple kindness of the type one did not normally see in the prideful and powerful Arcadias Laurel had been surrounded by for the longest time. She encouraged him in his pursuit of knowledge. For her word enough to move mountains, so too they helped move his mind. For his part, Tadmor helped bring to his wife a sense of patience and forbearance, though it would never be said he held her back (in public). Their marriage was something of a scandal to quite a few wagging tongues, but Bismarck had silenced them all. For as much as he disagreed with his daughter's choice of consort, long ago he had learned that the proudest of his children made her own decisions. It was this spirit that made him choose her as his heir, even with this major breach of what her father wished for her.

Still, even if Laurel Arcadia had the favor of her father, her son probably had his tolerance at most. Oh Latif was never treated cruelly by his grandfather or his family, at least overtly. Latif was fed, clothed, and housed as comfortably as one would expect a family would provide. The trouble came with the actual process of being a family. Many of his uncles and aunts (of which there were many) were jealous of the favor his mother had been shown, and his cousins (of which there were even more) envied the fact that despite Latif's shortcomings it appeared he was still his mothers and therefore grandfather's heir. Of all his relations, Latif only really could consider Karim a friend, then again everyone got along with Karim.

"If you want, I can try and talk my mother into adopting you or something," Latif offered, "Maybe that would make you the future head of the family."

"And have to deal with the glares and whispers and administrative crap and meetings? Blah, that's not the life I'm looking for. I'll delegate the pressure of somehow being a grand fighter and a political power player at the same time to you." Karim tried to deflect the issue with humor again before straightening up a little and looking a bit more serious, "I honestly can't imagine living up to that ideal, but I think you'll make it eventually."

"That makes one of us, if I can't find within me the drive to become what I need to be, how am I to get any good at it?"

"I suppose not everyone is going to be motivated by the big "oath and duty" spiel that we had to go through, but who knows, maybe Beacon will help you find your spark." Karim internally wondered if he truly believed that, but honestly someone outside of his younger cousin's immediate family ought to try.

Latif gazed at the clock on the wall, 16:12 it read. He told himself that today he would try and meet with his grandfather before 17:00. Such a task was easier said than done. He could wait until his mother was back from her mission and meet grandfather with her around, but honestly this was something he should've done himself days ago. Dusting off his armor and robes quickly, Latif sighed and briefly wondered if he was making anything that would be considered close to a sensible choice. It was too late to turn back now though, his transcripts were sent and now it was soon to be time for the school semester to start.

"I'll have to find it one day if I'm going to be leading this family I suppose," Latif told himself something like that all the time, Heaven only knew if he really thought it would come to pass, "I suppose I'll go up to see him then."

Karim clapped his hand on Latif's shoulder reassuringly, perhaps in vain hope that his own attitude would rub off on his cousin somehow.

"Well just think, after this it's not likely you'll have to see him again for months, maybe years. Pay him your respects now, and then you're free. Well, relatively anyway."

Latif couldn't help but smile a little bit. Though he had no actual older brother, he imagined that it would be much like his relationship with Karim or at least he hoped it would be like that. Then again since most of the Arcadia extended family lived on the one sprawling compound was there really much of a difference? Either way Latif had his meeting with his grandfather to attend to. Wait... was that a pun? Latif was about to chew out Karim but found his older cousin had already left to do whatever it was he planned to attend to for the rest of the day. With little else to do at this point, the training ring was to be left behind, perhaps for the last time in a long time.

The wide hallways of the Arcadia Complex were mostly empty at this time of the day. Various minor staff members of the household loitered through on their various duties. None of them looked Latif in the eye, despite his reputation as a rather sub-standard warrior compared to his relations; all of them knew that he was an Arcadia regardless. There was honor to that name, there was reverence for it. To say nothing of the fact that he was still Lady Laurel's only son. Latif found himself climbing up a winding staircase to reach his grandfather's study, each step echoing loudly and making his approach easily known to the man he was going to meet. The rattle of armor, the sound of his scimitars occasionally hitting the walls in the narrow space, everything echoed in this approach. Soon enough Latif reached the stop of the stairwell, and he knocked four times on the door of the master of the house.

Silence unbroken reigned for all of seven seconds before a deep voice bid, "Enter."

Latif turned the doors handle and entered to see the man he was to meet looking over some papers with great interest. Latif's Grandfather did not remove his gaze from his work as Latif sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

The bronze skinned elder of the Arcadia family was dressed in his normal casual wear, which was a set of dark burgundy robes fitted neatly around his form. Despite his advancing age, no one would ever old to his face. Perhaps it was partly because of the way he kept himself, in his youth and now in his older age Bismarck Arcadia kept all his hair clean shaven and close cut. Or perhaps it was in his physique that seemed to have lost none of its vigor on account of aura and meticulous management, none would doubt that Bismarck Arcadia yet remained a strong man. 'No,' Latif thought, that was not what made people think twice about whether or not Bismarck Arcadia had any intention of retiring soon. It was the eyes more than anything, the dark brown eyes so much like Latif's own still gazed upon the world with an intensity more fitting of a man half his age. The mind that led those eyes was every bit as driven as well, and such a mind did not slow down on account of an aging body.

Again a familiar quiet descended upon the room and Latif made no efforts to change that. they both knew that Bismarck would be the one to start this conversation, and this conversation would begin when he was ready. As he sat down, Latif glanced over at what his grandfather had in his hands. Those papers were not the thick official documentations that Bismarck usually had to look through. Neither was it something on his computer or scroll that he was reading. No... this was a simpler thing, something more personal perhaps? Bismarck then put the papers back down on the desk and stared into the eyes of the young man who did his best to remain composed in front of the family patriarch.

"You mean to go ahead with your plan then?" Both of them knew the plan of which he spoke, "Inconvenient, but not unexpected."

"In what way would my attending Beacon instead of Shade be inconvenient?" Latif was careful to keep his tone neutral, keeping this collected and calm would be to his benefit rather than a more passionate dialogue.

"You would not have your family nearby, for one thing," That's what these conversations were so often about, family, or rather The Family.

"I thought it better to strike out on my own," Latif tried to reason out, "Move beyond, to new frontiers."

"Away from the land that has made us, made you?"

"Yes."

Latif could not know what thoughts lurked behind the warrior's the eyes as he processed the information. If the eyes were the windows to one's soul for most, Bismarck's eyes were rather closed shuddered against it. Keeping thing simple and taciturn was always the best course of action when conversing with the Shield of Vacuo, but that also left little material for discerning true feelings. It was likely that was always his intention, to keep his thoughts and emotions guarded until he felt it necessary to unleash them. Many things was and is Bismarck Arcadia, a man prone to say more than what was needed was not one of them.

"You think you can do any better in far away Vale than Vacuo?" Latif's Grandfather grasped the papers again in his hand and read them as he talked, "I was surprised, from what I know of him I did not think Ozpin would take you."

"Excuse me?" Latif knew that his skills were not considered anything among Arcadia ranks, but at the very least they were around average for a training Huntsman of his age.

"He knows your name, he has your transcripts, he knows you are an Arcadia. And he knows Shade has always been the vehicle by which our family has gained its status." Latif realized it only now, the papers in his grandfather's hands were copies of Latif's transcripts sent to Beacon.

"You think this is about politics? My being accepted into Beacon somehow some sort of plot against you?" Latif could scarcely keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"It is quite possible. For what reason other than your name could Ozpin be convinced to take you on?" Bismarck this reasoned out somehow, perhaps in paranoia perhaps not. "Beacon is many things, but accepting someone of such..."

Inadequacy? Latif wanted to try and say with bitterness, but held his tongue.

"Middling talent usually is not one of them."

Perhaps a better word, but no with no less disappointment attached to it.

"They have accepted me, whatever their reasons," Latif was stating the obvious now, trying to get the conversation away from the wheels that were likely turning already in Bismarck's head. "I plan to go, I want to go."

"You want to leave Vacuo, that's what you want," Bismarck's words cut to the crux of the issue, "You want to leave the family compound and where our influence is undeniable."

"Yes," There was no hiding that fact from Bismarck, the old man was not so blind that he believed Latif generally happy around his extending family. That shouldn't have matter, it wouldn't be that way if he was a better fighter, but here they were.

"You have no guarantee you will find any more success in Vale than in your homeland, boy," apparently Bismarck did not feel it the time pass judgement on that desire not yet at least, "Give me your weapon."

Latif was surprised by the request, but compiled nonetheless. He took Sala and Din off of his belt and handed them over to his grandfather. Bismarck appraised them both with a careful eye, taking Din out of its sheath and feeling the flat edge of the blade upon his hand.

"Humph, even your weapons are seemingly from a simple mold. How many other Huntsmen and Huntresses use the Bow-Scimitar design?"

"Many, because it is a simple and reliable design. It has served many well and I thought it would serve me well."

"Or perhaps it was a lack of creativity that drove you to make such an uninspired choice," Latif flinched, unsure of what to say to such an insult.

He had forged Sala and Din with his own hands, he had trained with them as his weapons. Latif had put work into making the weapons his own, including developing a series of trick arrows to use in combat against Grimm and criminals. To have his weapons called uninspired was something that very nearly made Latif break the facade of calm. Very nearly, but Latif knew this was at least partly a test to see if he could stand under this scrutiny.

"If you came here seeking approval or blessing you will leave disappointed," Bismarck said at last, and Latif knew that this was always going to be the case, "But I'm sure you knew that when you originally made your plans. So tell me, for what reason did you come into my office today?"

Latif took a deep breath, keeping eye contact the entire time and holding his own expression in a stoic and calm demeanor.

"I came because I felt it would not be right to leave without saying something like a goodbye," For whatever else Bismarck Arcadia was, he was his grandfather, he was the head of the family, and he was a man who commanded respect, "I came to look you in the eye, and tell you I am leaving."

If only he showed the least bit of interest in the emotions of his family after his wife died. No words were exchanged for a good long while, the sole sound being the fan that hung over the room. Latif knew his Grandfather was thinking, for the great warrior's mind was never idle, and some said that even his dreams were merely another chance for him to work the gears of his mind to action. Bismarck put down Din, resheathing it before passing it and Sala back to the lad.

"It is a solid piece, despite its simplicity," Bismarck did not sigh, did not groan, did not make any show that he felt anything other than stoicism at another business or political transaction; the same stoicism that served him well in battle. "Perhaps there is something of your mother in you."

That was likely the closest thing to a complement Latif had ever heard from his grandfather. He did not feel any sense of relief or joy though, only contentment that soon this meeting would likely be over. He took back Sala and Din, placing them on his belt and securing them safely as he was taught.

"I think all that has needed to be spoken has been said, other than "goodbye," Latif noted as he pushed his chair back and readied himself to leave, "Goodbye grandfather, I must make the final preparations."

"Goodbye then," Bismarck would likely say little more than that, not even Latif's name or even calling him grandson, "Uphold our name in Vale, for it is not just your own, but that of great men and women of yesterday and tomorrow."

"I understand," Whatever else he might think or say, Latif would always have the Arcadia blood, and no matter what most of his family thought, he would honor that blood and that legacy the best he could. "May the sands shift to your winds, Grandfather."

That phrase old gesture of departure, something once said to superior officers and the like in the now relatively insignificant Vacuan Army. It felt right to say that however, as it was less like saying goodbye to family and more like saying goodbye to a general or king. There was not love nor effection nor mutual respect. Bismarck Arcadia had it on account of his age, his influence, and his skill as a warrior. Latif would have to earn that in the coming years, if such a thing was possible. As he rose from his chair and left the room, he spared no backwards glance for the leader of The Family. Latif knew his future would not be served glancing back at the eyes that held no care for him. It was going to be better to get away from all this, return later, and then speak on more grounded terms. Hopefully mother and father would be back before it was time to depart, but something in Latif's bones told him such a thing was not to be. Either way, he had prepared a letter for his mother and father should he leave before seeing them in person once more. Oh he could try a call on the scroll, but there was something deeply personal about handwritten words. As the young man walked down the winding staircase back to the main portion of the compound, a weight seemed to have lifted off his shoulders. The threshold of that meeting had been passed, the future awaited. Whether friends, foes or everything in between would be found in Vale he did not know, only that Latif Arcadia knew his destiny lay beyond the Vacuan Sands.

A/N Sorry for the long wait readers, I had my new job and classes beginning so I had some trouble getting this page out.

As for the chapter itself, Latif Arcadia draws his inspirations from warriors of middle eastern traditions such as Saladin. With his chapter out of the way, we'll now move onto more familiar grounds and characters. Beacon awaits, and hopefully I'll not keep you waiting too long this time! Read and Review folks, and thanks for keeping with me!


	5. A New Frontier

Crystal absentmindedly flipped through the pages of her brother's prayer book as she watched the clouds roll by outside the window. Soon she would step into Beacon Academy, the first of her people to do so. For this occasion she had dressed herself in her an enlisted officer's uniform, blue cloth with yellow gloves and trim along certain edges of the garment. Her black tricorn hat also continued to sit comfortably on her head, while Lion's Fang rested to the side of her seat. Maybe she should've worn something a bit more formal to make first impressions, but then she thought that most of the students would be dressed more casually. Or would they? Most of her experience with other people her age had been with fellow nobility and occasionally the children of the servants. Some of the privates in the army were also young, but they weren't really the type that went up to their commanding officers went it was RnR time. This could be a very different experience for her, her rank as nobility and as commander would mean little to nothing here. From what she heard, it was likely most of the people here knew little about the Kingdom of Carolean much less who its royals were. Early on she had told herself that she would not introduce herself as a princess but simply as a Carolean soldier. That much was certainly true, and either way, it was martial prowess that was supposed to define a true Carolus even before rank came into the picture. Sadly all the discipline in the world would not help her if the blonde young man sitting next to her decided to lose his lunch on her lap. She had refrained from speaking with him most of the flight, she was afraid of aggravating his condition but it seemed like things were about to come to a head.

"Do you need a bag or can or something?" Crystal tried to ask as it appeared the person sitting next to her was going to hurl any second now.

"I can make it, we're almost there right?" The blonde managed to choke out weakly in a voice that sounded like a man about to lose his life in addition to his lunch.

"Well..." Crystal looked out the window and failed to see Beacon out through the window. It looked like they still had ways to go yet, "You should probably take precautions just in case."

"I'm going to die before I even get to Beacon, from airsickness and shame. That's what's gonna happen to me," Crystal still didn't know this guy's name despite sitting next to him on this flight. She figured at this point she should at least know the name of the man who was apparently about to die of motion sickness.

"Crystal," She introduced herself first and offered her hand to shake, maybe having something else to focus on would help him not think about barfing all over the place. "Crystal Graka."

"Jaune Arc," The would-be Huntsman replied as he moved to shake Crystal's outstretched hand. His grip was obviously weakened from his current predicament, but Crystal noted that he did seem to have a relatively strong grip regardless. "Least you'll know my name when people ask for witnesses to my final moments."

"I'm sure that will make for quite a story," Crystal gazed out the window again to see the cliffside approaching in the distance, and upon it the place where she was supposed to be spending the next four years.

Beacon Academy, considered the greatest of the four Huntsman Academies in the world. Here she would train and be tested, to what extent compared to her instructors in Carolean she had no idea, but she was ready and willing to try. Coming to Vale, to a new land with a new people and new perspective, it fascinated her in a way that almost made her forget the idea of homesickness. She had only been away a short time, but already she found herself wondering as to what was happening in her home country and whether her father and mother were alright. Already they had lost one child, and now their only remaining offspring had decided to venture into a foreign land for almost half a decade. Still, the main thought gripping her mind (aside from hoping Jaune didn't throw up on her) was how excited she was to start. Upon the horizon, it loomed large with what looked like a few other ships already at the loading dock. Crystal turned to Jaune and tried nudging him on the shoulder, receiving a weak groan in response.

"We're almost there, just hold the contents of your stomach in for a few more minutes and you can hopefully vomit in a place that won't stink up the rest of this trip." Crystal obviously needed to work on the whole reassuring thing.

"Will do..." Jaune continued to look miserable and even as the ship touched down on the ground he looked like the end was near.

As soon as the ship's captain gave everyone the departure order Jaune raced off the ship as fast as his legs could carry him. This was fast enough for Crystal to lose track of him in the crowd of those also leaving the ship. The Carolean shrugged, it was likely she would see him again at some point, she had her own things to do as well. Also, it was probably for the best that she was far away from him when his stomach emptied its contents. After grabbing Lion's Fang Crystal walked slowly and methodically towards her new home, everything seemingly telling her that she had come to a very important place indeed. The high towers and gothic architecture of this place was a step away from the buildings of her home, but not altogether unwelcoming to the young woman. Walking down the approach avenue, Crystal noticed a few people staring at her uniform in curiosity. It was likely few if any of them knew what a member of the Carolean military looked like, let alone having met a soldier themselves. Some people were carrying their bags with them already, while others appeared more concerned with getting to the main hall for orientation. The prospective students moved in a flurry that made many of them seem like vague blurs to Crystal, who decided that she wanted to grab her bags before going off. After all, it seemed like most of the students were moving to the hall now, she didn't want to get caught in the rush that would be certain to come after the orientation.

All the bags of all the students, their main luggage at least, had been piled together rather disorganized lump of leather and other materials. Crystal spotted her two bags piled beneath three or four other bags and soon got to work moving them away.

"Do you need any help getting your bags?" A voice called from behind her, and Crystal turned around to see a red haired girl dressed in what Crystal believed to be a variant of a Mistralian style of armor.

"No, I'm quite alright," Crystal responded as she placed down the other bags before yanking out her own and freeing them from the confines of the luggage pile. "I thank you for the offer though, I'm Crystal, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

She put her hand out again, and found in grasped in a firm warrior's grip; Crystal believed for a moment a slight sense of relief danced on the redhead's face. Relief about what she did not know, but either way it was replaced quickly enough with a polite smile to go along with the handshake.

"Pyrrha," The Mistralian cast a curious eye on the Carolean, gazing upon the vestments with interest, "Your clothes, I've never seen a style like that. Is it some sort of uniform?"

"It is actually, Staff Sergeant Grade of the Carolean Army to be precise."

"Carolean?" Pyrrha questioned, "You're from Fafnir then? I knew that your accent was neither from Vale nor Mistral, but this would be the first time I've ever met a Carolean before."

"That doesn't surprise me, to be honest. Not a lot of Caroleans leave the kingdom other than the Ironmongers, and they usually aren't much for talking," Crystal looked and saw that Pyrrha didn't have her own luggage with her at the moment and stared at the pile. "Are your bags in that stack somewhere?"

"I hope so, it would be quite bothersome to only have my armor as casual wear for four years," Pyrrha's eyes eventually trailed over to a small red suitcase that she quickly yanked away from the maw of the baggage storm.

"You pack light, unlike a lot of people it would seem," Crystal commented, seeing that a lot of repeated name tags on multiple large containers. It looked like some people wanted to bring damn their near entire wardrobes.

"I've had to travel a lot, so I'm pretty good at keeping things in order ready to move. We should probably get going to the main hall by now, it wouldn't be a good idea to miss orientation." Crystal noticed that the green girl's eyes dropped slightly when she mentioned traveling but they quickly

"That it would not be," Crystal agreed, "We should be off then."

Crystal then started moving down the main avenue, Pyrrha following her lead as they walked down the aisle to the main part of the school. Crowds of people were moving in this direction, some with their bags some not. Crystal assumed that this was probably the direction they needed to go in. Pyrrha followed, apparently trusting Crystal's instincts well enough at this point. Eventually, the two stepped through the doors of the main hall where a throng of students awaited the word of the headmaster about something or other. It was all kind of a blur to Crystal honestly, she was mostly taking in the area with silent awe. Great expense was taken in the construction and design of this place, of that there was little doubt. The two young women soon enough found themselves in an amphitheater in which most of the prospective students seemed to have been gathered. Crystal noted with some dismay and some amusement how plain her blue uniform was to some of the rather colorful raiments of her fellow trainees. There was a plethora of chatter going on, various conversations about all manner of topics that were a far different fare from the soldier's chatter in the barracks.

Soon enough the headmaster and what appeared to be his chief assistant arrived on stage. Crystal had seen pictures of the man before, but this would be the first time seeing and judging him with her own eyes. His words were simple and direct for the most part if a bit lacking in emotion in the delivery. His words put the impetus on the students to take action, rather than be passive about their goals to become Huntsmen and Huntresses. After he finished his speech, his assistant, Goodwitch she remembered, told them of how their first night was to be spent before initiation on the following day. All gathered in the ballroom, a bit like piling into the barracks or pitching tents, the soldier in Crystal mused. The students were also given some basic maps and extra copies of instructions and guidelines to be given on their scrolls. Generously, Ms. Goodwitch mentioned that those that did not have scrolls would be provided with one by the school. At that proclamation, Crystal believed she saw a girl in an orange hide move up to grab one of the scrolls. She herself had a somewhat older but reliable model, all the same, enough for her purposes here most likely. The Carolean wouldn't be playing the latest games or getting clearest pictures, but calls and information would be able to be processed.

"Crystal, would you like to come with me to the weapon's lockers to put away our armaments?" Pyrrha asked as other students began to filter out to explore the campus. The day was still relatively young, plenty of time to be exploring the place that was to be home for four years.

"That sounds like an excellent idea, I wouldn't want to be carrying around my weapon all day anyways," Crystal gave a small grin as she as Pyrrha walked off towards the weapons lockers.

When they entered the large locker rooms and found it mostly empty. A few students were fiddling with their lockers trying to put their weapons away, but for the most part, it seems that people were more interested in other areas of the school. Crystal found her locker number assigned, number 459 with a code she was supposed to set and control using her scroll. After choosing a password that would be relatively easy to remember, the Carolean Soldier carefully detached the bayonet/rapier off of the musket portion of Lion's Fang. With gentle precision, she laid them down in the locker individually. Often she was told, that "this weapon was her life" and to an extent it was. That gun had served her through victory and defeat, and it would serve her through many more God willing. From the corner of her eye, Crystal believed she caught sight of Pyrrha putting way her weapons, a sword with function as spear and rifle, and a shield. The sword reminded Crystal of her own weapon, which also served three functions if need be. It appeared however that Pyrrha's was a more elegant design; while Crystal's would quite possibly be considered somewhat archaic. She wouldn't have her weapon any other way though, the rugged brown gun had been dragged through the mud and the snow, the fire, and the flames, and still here it was. There may have been others like it, but this one was hers.

The rest of the day was spent touring the campus and trying to memorize the various different locations so that her time in the next few days wouldn't be that of a person buried in their scroll desperately looking at the map. With so much to see, it was not a surprise that soon the sun hung low in the sky and it was time for all the students to gather in the ballroom. Crystal had by this point changed into her pajamas, plain blue garments sewn from wool, the same color as her uniform actually. She laid her sleeping bag next to Pyrrha in the northwestern corner of the room. It seemed that for the most part, the sleeping arrangements (or lack therefore) had produced an environment where the boys were on the eastern side and the girls on the west, aside from a few groups where old friends decided to mix together.

"So if you're from Carolean, you're a long way from home then," Pyrrha apparently wished to converse a bit more, and Crystal felt no reason not to oblige her, "I'll confess I don't know much about your homeland, but I hear it is quite different than the other Kingdoms."

"It is, for one thing, we don't have the same currency as the rest. We don't even have Huntsmen since we weren't a part of the Vytal Accords," Carolean's isolation had left it dissimilar to other Kingdoms, growing more apart rather than closer in the decades since the Great War. "This would make me the first Carolean Huntress if I succeed here."

Pyrrha looked thoughtful for a moment, then tried to give a reassuring grin to go with some words.

"I sure you will, you were accepted by Headmaster Ozpin after and he-"

KRTHUUUMP!

Two heads turned to see three figures at the center of a loud crash. Two females and one male they were, and beneath them, a rug of immense size. Crystal believed it to be the pelt of a Buffalo, but she could not be sure as two things were happening. One, she wasn't getting a good look at it from over here, and two it was constantly being shuffled around by the bouncing girl on top of it. An orange haired girl with a shirt that had the words Boop written across it to be exactly, and it appeared that her male companion was doing his utmost (mostly failing) to keep her from bringing down the building with her excited prancing.

"Ren, Ren, REN!" The girl bounded up and down on the rug without care for who was watching or listening, "It's real I told you it's real it's amazing!"

"Nora please, we can't-" The boy, Ren, apparently was to be ignored in favor of the girl currently sitting crisscross on the rug with an expression that read more curiosity than annoyance.

"Where'd you get it, did you buy from a store? No, you don't look the type, you hunted it down right? Was it a big fight, did you fight 20 of them? Did you skin it yourself? How many more do you have, how do you carry them, do you sell them? Can I have one?" The words were loud but they came out so fast that it was scarcely able to be made out by anyone who didn't speak twice as fast as the average person.

The girl on the rug, the girl Crystal now recognized as being one of the first to grab the complimentary scrolls, took a deep breath before answering.

"The Southern Plains, no, yes, not all at once, yes, maybe a dozen, very carefully, sometimes, and how much you paying?" Even in the dark Crystal could see the impish grin on the girl's face while confronted with this force of energy. For her part, the Carolean wasn't sure she would hold up half as well under the storm.

"Rennnnn," Nora turned back with what could only be described as a pleading expression in her eyes, "How much would you hold it against me if I spent just a little bit of money on buying one of these rugs? I mean c'mon it'd be just like my dream!"

"Beowolves aren't bison, Nora," Ren corrected while crossing his arms and sighing, "Why don't you wait until we have an actual room first before you start getting decorations for it?"

"Oh, that's a good point! Thanks Ren!" Nora then turned back to the girl on the rug, a slightly sad look on her face, "I'm sorry, I'll have to wait until later to buy my precious rugs then. Oh, and I never got your name!"

"Advances into Distant Sunrise," Well that certainly was a mouthful, "And I assume you have a last name to go along with Nora?"

"Yep, it's Valkyrie, and my friend over here's named Lie Ren, everyone calls him Ren," Nora looked rather thoughtful for a moment and began to consider something before it came out, "Your name's kinda long but also cool but I kinda wanna make it shorter... Would you be bothered if I just called you Sunny? If you don't like it is totally fine I-"

"Sunny's fine Nora, it's alright," Sunny, Crystal supposed now, "Maybe later you can get a bison skin from me. I promise I won't try and cheat you and make you over pay."

Chatter like this between the two girls went on loudly for a good deal of time before Ren eventually got his companion to calm down and dragged her back to their sleeping bags. The girl Sunny seemed not the least bit annoyed by the interruption and rather looked a little despondent when the two had left.

"Well, at least some people seem to be making friends," Pyrrha whispered to Crystal who in turn gave a small smile. "Do you have high hopes for your time here at Beacon?"

"Yes," Crystal said after thinking a moment, trying to center herself and her thoughts while she opened her brother's prayer book for a few more psalms before bed. "I know not what paths lie ahead, but I do hope for the best."

She did not add that she had already seen some of the worst. This was not the time to dwell on such things. For now, Crystal Graka tried to enjoy the experience of meeting new people in a new place, keeping dark thoughts and memories from her mind, even as a reminder of them sat in her lap. This was a new frontier, a new beginning, a new start. She was going to make the most of it, hopefully without anything crazy happening along the way.

A/N: The Story has reached Beacon Boys and girls, hopefully I've gotten the "voices" of the characters right and tried to make things flow relatively well into canon. Anyway, my beta hasn't responded back to me for a while, so this chapter is currently unbetad. Anyway, please leave your thoughts in the reviews, and initiation follows soon!


	6. Interlude: Fish Gotta Eat

Music always helped her feel good, helped her get in the mood for whatever was going on. Whether it was business or pleasure, music really helped her feel like things were gonna work out for the best. That was why one red car on the road was playing quite a bit of music as its driver made her way to the harbor. The radio station that was being broadcast mostly played that old big band stuff, the type of music that could really make one feel on top of the world. Brass and bands, that was the stuff; it was relaxing in a way. Ah, it felt good to go on a drive sometimes, just one person not having a care in the world. Well, except for the cargo in the back, but it wasn't going anywhere. For now it was time to just take it easy, let the road take her on journey and not look back. Of course she had a destination in mind, she but sometimes it really was about how you got there and not what you did once you arrived. Struggles growing up taught someone the value of what you've got and what you're doing right now. Sometimes it can all be taken away from you too fast.

Viola Russo felt good. She had a good job, a nice place, fine clothes, and a really nice car. Unlike a lot of people, her job wasn't just one that paid the bills, it was one that she enjoyed while making her a lot of money on the side. It wasn't always smooth sailing of course, what job and career didn't have its ups and downs, but Viola won't trade her life for anything. She worked hard for what she had, fought for it every step of the way. The dark hair and dark eyed woman had no regrets about her choices, whatever her parents might say this was the path she followed. The song on the radio changed and Viola realized she was getting close to her destination now. She was headed for a little spot in a certain shipyard, a place where the tides rolled a certain way and the owners didn't look where they didn't need to. Viola would park her car almost at the edge of the waterfront, the sound of the sea washing against the man made structure echoing in her ears after the music stopped.

Wait, it wasn't just the sea that was making noise. Her cargo in the back apparently didn't know how to give it a rest. During the drive the music had mostly drowned him out, but now that the engine was off the music went with it. Returned was the thudding and the struggling. Jeez didn't these guys know how to conduct themselves with just a little bit of dignity? Maybe she could leave the car on and keep the music on? Nah, that would waste Dust. This would be quick anyway. Stepping out the car, Viola popped open the trunk to see her cargo still as she left him.

Tied, gagged, beaten, and bloody was one unfortunate faunus of the White Fang; who at this point had a look of extreme terror flashing in his eyes. Seemed a young guy too, couldn't have been much more than 20 or something. Kid should be in some college or at a low paying dead end job, not trying to do whatever it was the White Fang was up to these days. That was the question on the minds of a lot of people in Viola's line of work. What was the White Fang doing robbing very large amounts of Dust? Everybody knew the Fang had a big beef with the SDC, lots of faunus did. Yet lately the White Fang in Vale was getting bolder and bringing a level of heat that not everyone was gonna be happy with. Illicit operations worked best when things are quiet, controlled. Whatever was going on with the White Fang lately was something knew, and it apparently wasn't something this schmuck knew. Too bad for him, if he had known something, maybe he'd be worth keeping around. Viola had personally seen to it that this guy told everything that he knew. Adam Taurus, the local honcho for the White Fang had new partners that wanted a lot of Dust for some reason. Nobody really knew who these new partners were, apparently there was a lot of intermediary hush hush type stuff going down.

Dragging the unfortunate bastard to his feet, Viola decided to have a little bit of fun before doing her job. Taking out her stiletto, Viola cut the gag off of the faunus who gasped for air like a madman. Apparently he wasn't all that good at breathing through his nose.

"You sure became a little bitch after I cut your little horns off," Viola admired her handiwork for a moment as she stared at the stumps where the young man's antlers use to be, her thick accent betraying her origins from the Eastern Coast of Vale, "Wonder what your leaders would think of you now? Seeing you like this."

"You... you human piece of shit..." It was a low murmur but it was enough to be heard, "Soon the White Fang will-"

"Yeah yeah the White Fang will bring retribution and devastation to the humans who have oppressed your kind for so long. It was about as inspiring the last 40 times ya said it."

"I might die, but my cause will-"

"Your cause is gonna come up short, you wanna know why?" Viola once again interrupted her captive audience, putting her knife under the faunus' throat for good measure, "You and yours are starting to mess with _Cosa Nostra,_ and that's never good for anybody."

"It's a good thing you don't have gills, otherwise this might actually be worse for you," Viola then move to open the door to the backseat and pulling out two concrete blocks attached to chains. Aura and a history of hard work enabled her to carry the things with ease, a wicked smile on her face.

"You're not going to- no. No just shoot me already just-" Terror on the faunus' face knew that this was no bluff, he wasn't going to die a quick death.

"Not in the program my fine faunus friend," Viola secured the chains around the man's already bound hands and feet.

It had been a long time since Viola had done this herself, normally she would have some of her guys do it. Today though, she decided to give them a break, and sometimes a job needed a more personal touch anyway. It was a beautiful day too, the perfect day to go outside, and go swimming.

"Not like this! Not like this!" He was struggling harder now now, rattling the chains though he had no chance of escape. Viola wasn't some rank amaetur, bonds tied by her weren't gonna bust unless she wanted them too.

"Hope you don't take this personally kid," Viola made sure all the chains were secure before standing right in front of the faunus. No gun in hand, no knives, just her. "It's just business that you and your buddies have been messing with. Have a nice swim."

With that, Viola sent an aura filled kick straight into the White Fang member's chest. His aura was already weak from his "treatment" at the hands of Viola and her men, and that kick pretty much sattered any of it that was recuperating. Vila wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but she felt like maybe she could hear some bones crunching as the goon was sent flying into the water with his chains still attached. If the water in his lungs didn't kill him, not getting his internal injuries treated soon certainly would. Good riddance, Viola thought. She and her boys had captured those goons in the middle of them trying to shake down a faunus run store of all places. A store that those guys apparently didn't know was under protection on behalf of a certain class of individual. Most of that crew had bolted, but that lucky fella just happened to not be fast or smart enough to run correctly. Either way, he was going to have plenty of time to reflect on what he had done with what time he had left in this world. Getting to the bottom of this new uptick on White Fang activity would be a long term goal for Viola and probably everyone else in her little organization. Still, there would be time to worry about that latter right now Viola felt good. She went for a good drive, listened to good music, and hey, didn't even get any blood on her new black suit. Hopping back into the car and turning the radio on, Viola Ruso felt like all things considered, she had the world on a string, it was time to go have a nice dinner. She earned it, maybe a good vegan place tonight, or pasta, pasta was always good. She would kill for some fresh bucatini.

* * *

A/N: Short Chapter for you guys, sorry to leave you hanging, this is more of an interlude to get you familiar with one of the villains of the fic. More on her and her organization later, the next chapter is already done and should be coming to you within a week. Thanks to all my readers and hope you guys can leave reviews sharing your thoughts. Thank you!


	7. Into the Wilds

Mornings were never Latif's strong suit, usually he prefered to sleep in. This time though he didn't want to be caught flat footed on the day that teams were supposedly to be given out. He knew nothing about how the teams were assigned, but after an uneventful breakfast he had the feeling that it would involve combat after the first year students were told to go the weapons lockers to pick up their gear. The rocket locker room was a comotion of students all brandishing weapons of various different designs. He did believe he saw another student gathering together a set of scimitar bows but he couldn't be sure about it as he continued his walk toward his own locker. Locker 39 was the place Latif had stowed away his weapons for the time being, Sala and Din sitting ready for him to begin the next day. Inside was also the quiver of Dust Arrows and other fun tricks that he had stashed away; tinkering with new arrow designs had always been something of a hobby. Either way, he would probably have to at least use some of them in order to get past whatever initiation was. Building new arrows wasn't complicated, it was just time consuming really. Sometimes a lot of fine detail work had to be put into all the little mechanisms that went into making sure the Dust or other components of mechanical engineering worked to specifications Latif knew that if they malfunctioned on the field of battle, it could be the difference between life and death, not just for himself, but for other people involved as well. Casting such thoughts aside for the moment, Latif took the time to look around at the other students trying to get their gear in order.

Into the area next to his locker strolled a young man who appeared to already have at least one of his weapons. At his side was a single revolver as he walked towards his own locker with a steady and slow gait. This stranger's most notable accessory was a wide brimmed hat that looked patched in a dozen places, and Latif noted that his dress and weapon fit the traditional image of someone from the Borderlands. Borderlanders from either side of the lines had a certain reputation, and internally Latif wondered how much this guy fit those stereotypes. The fact that he had a weapon on him already and not in his locker seemed to speak at least partly to that. In fact, Latif remembered specifically that all students were required to check in their weapons with the locker systems. Why did he of all people still have a weapon on hand with him? Regardless, Latif chose to focus on his own work for now. This guy probably had special permissions to carry that around. Otherwise, one of the teachers or staff would've made him put the gun away. Trying to break the ice somewhat, Latif tried to approach the other young man after he had gotten his weapons out his locker.

"So... Do you know anything about what Initiation is going to be like?" Latif asked the borderlander who turned to him with hazel eyes looking very worn and tired.

"Not a clue, but I reckon that it's not gonna be a written exam if we need our weapons," the stranger twirled his revolver lazily before holstering it again. He also had equipped himself with another gun and what looked like a set of grenades.

"Oh I don't know, maybe our job is to cut, slash, or shoot our answers onto something," Latif had heard that to be a huntsman sometimes meant to be prepared for the unexpected. Who knew what the expectations were?

"If it comes to that I hope you packed enough arrows in your quiver," seemed like this guy was at least a little interested in small talk, his eyes averted themselves for a moment before he stuck out his hand, "My pa did manage to teach me manners, name's Russet but folks mostly call me Rusty. And you?"

"Latif, Arcadia," as he shook Rusty's hand Latif noticed how strong the guy's grip was, though he supposed that was to be expected of a prospective Huntsman. "It's a pleasure to meet you Rusty."

"Bit hard to judge if I'm really a pleasure this quick ain't it?" Rusty laughed a bit at his own joke before thinking on the name he'd just heard, "Arcadia huh, like the bigshots up Vacuo ways?"

"The same, yeah," Latif sighed, he knew this would come up sometime, "I try not to make a big deal out of it. It's part of why I wanted to come here instead of going to Shade I-"

"Don't stress it," Rusty interrupted, "I can wrap my head around it, you wanna make your own way. I can respect that."

Latif was feeling a little surprised, but it was a welcome one. He was wondering if anyone was gonna make a deal out of his name. The Arcadias were known inside and out as Vacuo's equivalent to the Schnees, though the Arcadia legend was built on blood rather than Dust. It was good to see that it seemed that at least this guy wasn't at all that concerned with it.

"And if you're from the Borderlands, then you've made it a long way from home as well," Latif surmised. Rusty was quiet at that sentence and nodded his assent to that statement.

"It's been a long road, with a lot behind me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you didn't know." Rusty looked like he might've been about to say something else before they heard the sound of a spear thunk into metal.

"I'm sorry!" Came a voice after the sound of metal against metal, along with something akin to whimpers.

Latif and Rusty turned to see a group of three girls, one in brown, the other in blue, and the last in red. Latif recognized the girl in the brown armor, that was Pyrrha Nikos. She was famed for victories across Mistral, and that she apparently was here was a surprise to Latif. Most students of Sanctum were fast tracked to Haven Academy. Perhaps, much like himself, she did not want to be too close to her traditional sphere of influence. The same might be said of the other girl, Weiss Schnee. Laft's grandfather had know Nicholas Schnee, not on a deep level, but enough to have a few personal anecdotes. The third girl, dressed in a dark blue uniform, was someone that Latif did not know. He recognized the uniform from his books, it was of Carolean make. That a young soldier of the distant kingdom was here struck him as interesting. Was the closed kingdom sending its soldiers now to Huntsmen Academies? They were all standing while one unfortunate young man with blonde hair and blue eyes

"Pyrrha was that really necessary?" The Carolean asked with a tone that was slightly chasting, "Jaune, are you alright?"

"I'm okay Crystal, really," It seemed that whatever had happened, this guy had earned a spear through his hoodie.

"You saw how he was, I for one think you would be thankful for such a prompt response if you were in my situation." Schnee it seemed was the person this Jaune guy had offended the most. Probably not the best idea.

More of that spectacle would have to wait as the students were then to be called to the cliffs for the initiation test. Latif looked over to Rusty who appeared confident and prepared for what the day might bring. Latif himself was feeling a bit on edge, but there was nothing for it but to go out there and do his utmost to succeed. He came here to improve, and he wasn't going to be doing anything like that if he was afraid of challenge. Sala and Din at his side, Latif followed the crowd towards the Beacon Cliffs.

* * *

Once he got to the site, it appeared that everyone was to be give individual spots on. Nervously Latif bounced up and down without jumping and- wait. What. Latif looked down, the metal plate bounded ever so slightly as he moved up and down on it. Springboards, they were on a bunch of springboards. Every single one of them. Great. This could only end well. Latif tried to pay attention when the teachers started talking, he really did. He mostly got the gist of it, he wasn't totally spacing out because he didn't get that good of a sleep last night. Forest, relics, eye contact, teams. Yeah he was paying attention. Paying attention to the fact that this school was apparently as arbitrary as a pair of dice. How in the hell was he supposed to find anyone he knew he was going to work well with if it was all based on first eye contact? Latif shuddered to think about with every team to come out of Beacon had been chosen like this. Maybe it was the reason some of them went solo after their four years.

The rush of air when he was launched into the skies was almost freeing actually. Were Latif not being graded on his performance, he would've actually thought about taking the time to just enjoy the ride a bit before landing. Alas, such was not to be the case. This was an examination, a test. Action had to be taken now, and it was to be swift and decisive. Sailing through the air, Latif formed his bow from his swords and carefully reached back into his quiver. Fumbling around for a split second, Laif found the arrow he needed and quickly brought it to his bow. Normally such a task of stringing an arrow and knocking to a bow wasn't something done in mid air, but Latif let himself go through the motions all the same. String, steady breath, and a keen eye. One fluid motion, one solid shot, an arrow flew through the sky with a specialized hooking arrowhead. It latched onto a study tree branch and Latif found himself rappeled by high tension cord towards the tree. Holding onto the cord tightly, he mentally counted the seconds before it was time to let go. As the ground became closer and closer he knew he had to make this right. Aura would protect him in case he made a mistake, but there were Grimm in this forest, and every bit of Aura lost to the environment would be a little less aura to use against the Grimm. Still a ways up from the ground, Latif released his grip on the cord, angling his descent to put himself away from the path of the trees. The arrow had served the purpose of helping to control his fall however, and as Latif rolled onto the ground he felt decently satisfied with himself.

Looking to where he had shot the grapple arrow, Latif retrieved it from its place in the tree and with the press of a button collapsed the cord back into the shaft. Transforming mechanisms really were a lifesafer for someone like him. Now the question was how to get to the northern end of the forest and retrieve the relics needed of him. Latif pulled out his scroll and looked for the compass app. Unlike a lot of the apps on a scroll, the compass function of the hand-held device did not require reliable signal from any tower. Using it he would be able to find his way north at least. Better to be safe than sorry.

"The miracles of modern tech," Latif spoke aloud to no one in particular, "I wonder how everyone else's luck is holding up."

Latif wasn't really keeping track of where other people were landing while in mid air, though perhaps he should've of. It was likely that he was going to find a partner before he found the relics. He wondered briefly about who he really knew at this school. There was Rusty, one of the few people he'd actually talked to on a one-to-one basis. For a brief moment his mind even entertained the idea of becoming partners with someone of great stature and reputation like Pyrrha Nikos or Weiss Schnee. That would be something to write home about he supposed, but what were the chances of that? The first person you make eye contact with, it really did seem like a haphazard way to run things. Latif sighed and wondered what the process for picking partners was like at Shade. Either way he had made his choice and now it as time to stick with it. Collapsing his bow with swords for these close quarters, Latif began to make his way north. He glanced regularly at his scroll to make sure he was going north, he tried to keep his eyes ahead of him for the most part. Not being aware of your surroundings was dangerous, and it would be pretty embarrassing to trip and fall on some branch or root. However as long as he was generally aware nothing should take him by-

"Hello there!"

"Wah?" Latif was looking at his scroll in that moment and turned to face where the noise had come from. It seemed like it had come from behind him so he turned about face.

Held within his eyes was someone who looked like they'd leaped out of the pictures of his book son the nomads of the Sea of Grass. Long dark hair in twin braids and with dark eyes, a dark blue if he wasn't mistaken, and dressed in hides of what he assumed were buffalo. The hides were a slightly orange color with red markers on its fringes giving it some sort of look that reminded Latif of a rising or setting sun.

"Excuse me, did I startle you?" The girl asked in a polite tone that seemed more apologetic than needed.

"Oh, not really, I was just looking at my scroll, trying to make sure I was still going north towards the relics."

"You were using your scroll?" The girl tilted her head and placed her hand to her chin, "I decided to save my battery, the sun's in the right place to tell direction, for now at least."

"You can tell you heading by reading the sun?" Latif questioned.

"I can," came the proud anwer, "I wouldn't be much of a Pathfinder if I couldn't tell my way around the land."

"My name is Advances into Distant Sunrise, Sunny for short," well the long form was a bit to remember but he could manage Sunny, "And it looks like we're partners for the next four years."

"Looks to be that way," Latif agreed. He didn't really know anything about this Sunny girl, but she had the bearing of a warrior in her stance. Of that much Latif was certain, and at the very least she knew her way around directions, or at least seemed to. Latif had read a bit about the Southern Nomads and their Pathfinders. If this girl was indeed one of them, he maybe have found himself with a powerful ally.

"Well we'd better get a move on, right?" Latif looked towards where he thought North was and tried to look as confident as possible, "Ready to get some relics and prove ourselves to people who want to launch us off cliffs?"

"Sounds like a fun time to me," Latif actually wasn't sure how much sarcasm, if any was in that girl's statement. Perhaps there was even a hint of enjoying their method of departure in her words.

Either way, they had a mission to accomplish. Here he was now, with a new partner and a new opportunity. They hadn't run into any Grimm yet, so maybe they would make good time. He of course expected that some would show up eventually, but it was absolutely fine that none had shown up so far. He had found a partner quickly, now the question remained whether he and his new companion Sunny would be able to get to the relics as easily as they had found partners. Only time would tell, and the day was young yet. Forward and onward they would have to go, the journey of four years beginning with these simple steps. Well, more like one giant push from a cliff but who was counting?

A/N Shorter chapter, but I've been a bit busy lately, review and read if you'd like!


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